Rockabye Baby
by Clockwork Hobbit
Summary: Arthur and Francis finally get a child, but nothing good can stay forever. Warnings for child abuse, human trafficking, and character death.


_Rockabye baby, on the treetop._

Finally, they had passed all their background checks and the courts and were going to get their baby. They knew when the baby was due, though they had never met the birth mother. The agency wouldn't tell them anything about the circumstances surrounding the choice the poor girl made to give up her baby, and they wouldn't ask-Francis and Arthur were far more excited about meeting the baby.

They even had naming rights, as the girl was giving up the child. That had been the subject of many debates, especially as they didn't even knew the gender of the baby. Finally, Arthur and Francis had decided on Matthew for a boy and Madeline for a girl.

Arthur was woken in the middle of the night by Francis talking softly into the house phone. He groaned, irritated. "Shut up, frog," he muttered, hitting his husband's arm, although not with as much force as he could.

Francis glared at him. "It's the hospital on the phone. They want to know how quickly we can be there."

Arthur was instantly wide awake. "The baby," he cheered, thrilled.

They were pulled over for speeding on the way to the hospital, Arthur bouncing his leg impatiently, arms crossed in irritation, as Francis dealt with the cop. Finally they were free to go and hurried off to the hospital.

Once there, they were told to wait...and wait...and wait. Labor was taking longer than expected, and the two men were immensely stressed out as they waited.

Finally, they were called back to a room where a nurse sat in a chair, holding a bundle of blankets that squirmed slightly. The woman who had led them back to the room turned to them. "Do you have names chosen?"

Francis answered, seeing as Arthur was too busy staring at the nurse holding the baby to respond. "Matthew, for a boy, and Madeline for a girl."

The nurse stood, bringing the child over to them. "Say hello to Matthew," she murmured, and for the first time the couple got to see and hold their child.

 _When the wind blows the cradle will rock._

Matthew was a model child. Even as an infant he never cried, they never dealt with the "terrible two's"-everything was perfect. Until one fateful day.

Arthur had gone to pick Matthew up at daycare when he was told that the boy had already been picked up by an older man claiming to be his grandfather.

"That isn't possible," Arthur snapped. "My parents live in England, and Francis' in France. Mine won't come here, not after they all but disowned me for marrying another man, and Francis' would have called first." He glared at the woman in charge of the daycare, probably terrifying the poor thing. "No one other than the two of us is authorized to pick up Matthew."

The woman's eyes widened, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. "I think we need to call the police."

Arthur clenched his fist. "Can you do that? I need to call my husband."

He stepped outside as the woman picked up the phone, fishing his cell out of his pocket. He waited impatiently for Francis to pick up. When he did, Arthur found he had no voice. It had been stolen through fear.

"Arthur?" Francis asked. "What is it, love?"

"Matthew." Arthur's voice cracked over the word. "How quickly can you get to the daycare?"

"I'm at work, cher," Francis reminded him. "I can't just drop everything and leave to come see Matthew."

"You won't be dropping everything to come see Matthew," Arthur whispered. "He's not here. Someone took Matthew."

There was a crash as Francis dropped the phone. "Please tell me that you are joking…" he begged when he picked it back up.

"No," Arthur replied despondently. "The police are on their way."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Francis promised.

The police were questioning the employees of the daycare and comforting Arthur when Francis pulled up. The second he got out of the car Arthur ran over to him, immediately breaking down into tears and sobbing into his shirt. Francis stroked his hair, comforting the other as best as he could. It was no use. Their baby was gone.

 _When the bow breaks the cradle will fall._

Matthew didn't know what was happening, only that it was dark and he couldn't move his arms and legs and that he had to go to the bathroom. And that he wasn't with his Papa and Daddy. They would never treat him like this. He didn't understand what was happening.

"You're awake!" a man said happily, and Matthew shrunk away from the voice. He didn't recognize it, and that scared him.

His memories came back slowly...the man telling him that Daddy had asked him to get Matthew, and leading him out of the daycare, and giving him candy. But then he couldn't remember anything else.

Then a lot of things happened all at once. He was dragged out of the car and the light made his eyes hurt and people were talking a lot and nothing was right. And he still had to go to the bathroom but he was a big boy-he could hold it-but them he couldn't. And that triggered a whole new round of shouting and someone hit him and it was scary.

Before his eyes could adjust he found himself in a dark room with a scary man glaring at him. Then another man entered. "He needs to be trained before we can sell him. They'll pay nicely for one so young, especially if he's well-trained and pure. We can train him how to serve, in all the ways they want, we just can't take what they'll pay the most for."

Matthew didn't understand what they were talking about-he was far too young-but they scared him.

One of the men approached him and knelt beside him. When the hand came down on him, Matthew panicked. That wasn't for people to touch! But there was nothing he could do.

He wasn't sure how long he was there, how often they touched him and hurt him and didn't let him eat. Far too long. He worried about Daddy and Papa and wanted to go home but couldn't.

He was so tired all the time. Matthew just wanted to curl up and sleep forever.

And so, one day, he gave up. He didn't want to be awake. He decided to sleep forever and ever. They couldn't hurt him there, couldn't sell him like they kept talking about, couldn't touch him-and maybe he'd finally get to go back to Papa and Daddy.

Matthew closed his eyes and let the darkness overtake him.

 _And down will come baby, cradle and all._

Upon finding out that Matthew had died, Arthur had sunk deep into depression. Nothing Francis could do would cheer up his husband. Their baby had died at the age of three, the killer had never been caught, and it haunted the Brit. The couple moved from Quebec to Virginia to escape the ghost of the dead child, and tried to move on mentally as well, but it was no good. Matthew haunted them.

Four years later, Francis finally convinced Arthur to participate in a camp-like experience for children who lived in a group home. They had no parents, no one to love them besides the overworked employees at the home, and were placed in a willing family for the summer vacation from school. Francis was convinced that they needed a child to liven up their home, and Arthur, though originally opposed to the idea, was talked around.

Their boy, they found out, was named Alfred. There was no picture attached to his file-he wouldn't let anyone take his picture, the notes said-and so Arthur and Francis had no idea what to expect. Alfred had their pictures so as to know what adults to go with when he arrived, but they had no idea what to look for.

On the June day the children were to arrive, the couple waited with the other host parents, anxious to meet the boy. When the bus arrived Arthur stood on his tiptoes, trying to see over the crowd, though not with much luck.

Francis, however, could see, and as the children poured off the bus, full of mirth and life, he grinned. "They all look so happy, cher," he murmured to Arthur. "This will be goo-" He cut off abruptly, looking as if he had seen a ghost.

"What is it?" Arthur asked, worried.

"There's a boy who looked just like Matthew would have, had he grown up," Francis whispered, voice barely audible.

"I want to see!" Arthur snapped, but his moving to see was stopped by hearing his name.

"Mr. Kirkland? Mr. Bonnefoy? I'm Alfred."

Arthur turned to look at the boy, and froze. He had a chunk of hair sticking straight up, not a curl, and glasses, but other than that he was the spitting image of their dead son.

Distantly, Arthur heard Francis saying his name, as well as Alfred saying something, but he couldn't pick out individual words. Dear lord, it was just like having Matthew back.

He couldn't remember how they had gotten back to the house, but they had to have, since he found himself sitting on the couch, the muffled sounds of Francis helping Alfred unpack over his head. Matthew. Alfred. Matthew. Alfred. God.

Francis had to throw a glass of water in his face to get him to snap out of it.

"What the hell, frog?" Arthur growled.

Francis looked at him calmly. "Dinner is ready, and Alfred and I are waiting for you."

Quietly, Arthur followed his husband to the table. The three of them ate in silence until dessert, when Alfred looked up at them.

"This is really good, Mr. Bonnefoy. Thank you." He looked down. "I've never had anything like this. I wonder if my brother has."

"You have a brother?" Arthur asked. There were more people running around that looked like Matthew?

"Well...that's what they told me. I never met him. I had a twin brother when I was born, but then he was adopted and no one wanted me, so they put me in a group home. Then someone wanted me, but they weren't very nice and we moved a lot so that no one would find out they weren't nice. Almost three years ago someone found out and they took me away and put me in the new home."

Arthur bit his lip. "Do you know anything about your brother?"

Alfred shook his head. "No one knew."

"Where were you born, Alfred?" Francis cut in.

"Canada. I was born in Quebec, in Canada. But I'm American!"

Francis nodded, locking eyes with Arthur. "And what is your birthday?"

"July 3rd. In 2007. I'm almost eight."

Arthur inhaled sharply. That was Matthew's birthday. They had been born in the same Canadian province, on the same day, looked alike, and Alfred had mentioned having a twin.

"Alfred…" Francis' voice was strangled. "I think we know your brother. Sort of."

Alfred looked up, excited. "Really? What's his name? Can I meet him?"

Arthur's heart nearly broke. "You can't meet him-he died a couple years ago. His name is Matthew, and we are his parents." He would not discuss Matthew in the past tense.

"My brother is dead?" Alfred had never met the other boy, his twin, and he still looked near to tears. "What happened?"

Arthur glanced at Francis, not knowing what to say.

Luckily, the other man did. "Some not-so-nice people took Matthew."

"Like what happened to me," Alfred said matter-of-factly. "Some not-so-nice people took me and they hit me and wouldn't let me eat if I didn't do everything exactly right. But I'm not so good at doing things exactly right. Did they do that to Matthew, too?"

"We don't know," Francis said. "But we do know that Matthew didn't survive."

Alfred started crying. "I never met him but I always heard about him and always wanted to meet him and dreamed about it and now he's dead!"

Francis gathered Alfred into a hug, and Arthur joined them. "There, there...everything will be okay."

* * *

 **Human trafficking is terrible and in no way do I condone it. Same with child abuse.**

 **Additionally, I know Al's birthday is July 4th. But Mattie's is July 1st and I wanted them to be twins, so I chose an in-between day.**


End file.
